


DETACHMENT

by jjaeyong



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-06-13 13:11:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15365400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjaeyong/pseuds/jjaeyong
Summary: Johnny, who is a cold-blooded, emotionless hitman is hired by a ruthless gang to kill Ten, a mischievous and outspoken male sex worker who is intent on ending his life. When their two worlds collide, will Johnny exhibit symptoms of his detachment and pull the trigger?





	1. ONE

_**JOHNNY'S POV** _

The day that I met him was a typical day - or so I thought. Earlier in the evening, I had killed a drug dealer who owed the gang I was working for some money and some drugs. It was a nice clean kill, straight through the back off the head while he was busy listening to music and weighing bags of cocaine on a set of balance scales. No mess, no struggle. I did my job and I did it well. I brought the drug dealer's drivers license and any identity I had with me on my way to my next job. As usual, I pocketed any money that was in his wallet and took whatever small valuables I could find - like a sick souvenir or reward; perhaps a head count. I would have to give the identification to the gang as evidence that he was in fact dead.

The dismal and disagreeable streets of downtown Seoul were covered in mushy snow and trampled on by boots of pedestrians commuting late at night, which left stains of dirt in the white dust their wake. The air was foggy, which was illuminated by the flickering street lights above me. I pulled up my scarf to cover my nose and chin and walked with my head down. My long jacket swayed at my calves as I felt the steady wind blow a draft in between my legs. I ran my finger over the length of the pistol in my pocket, just as I always did when I was apprehensive before a job - my final job of the day.

I made my way to the address that I was given and checked my watch. It was exactly 1 am, I was right on time. I approached the rather unsightly looking apartment building - it was definitely low budget accommodation. I looked both ways before I entered, and there was no one in sight. I slipped in the lobby through the cracked glass doors that were poorly fixed with duct tape. The lobby was lit poorly by a single, yellow lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. The placed smelled of old wood and mould. I scowled slightly as a wet, thin cat ran past my feet and slipped around the corner into the darkness.

I stepped up the creaky wooden stairs and checked the address on a piece of paper in my pocket one last time - apartment 209. I reached the first floor and peeked my head around the corner in the dark hallways to see if there was anyone in sight. They were empty, to my pleasure. I continued walking up the stairs but slowed down as I approached the second floor. I turned right into the hallway and the window at the end of it lit up the metal numbers bolted into the door; 209. I pulled my gun out of my pocket and tightened the silencer around the tip of the gun. There was nothing more incriminating than hearing a gunshot late at night in an area like this, where police probably patrolled like hawks. I rested my ear against the door, and couldn't hear any movement from inside. I knelt down and looked through the space at the bottom of the door. I couldn't see anything - I couldn't even tell if there were any lights on inside. I stood up again and twisted the door nob slightly, expecting it to be locked, as it usually was. But, it turned fully and it opened with a high pitched screech. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, pressing it slowly into its place so it wouldn't make a noise. I turned around and what I was faced with was a messy apartment, with rubbish everywhere.

The only source of light in the room was emanating from the TV, which wasn't on any particular channel - it was just static. I stepped as lightly as I could on the floorboards and held my gun up to my chest. I peered around the corner and entered the first room on my right - what looked like a bedroom. There was a single futon on the floor, surrounded by take-out food containers and used condoms. I scoffed at the rancid smell. The place had dust in the corners and was caked onto the window sills; it looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years. I don't know what I expected from that part of town, anyways.

I walked out of the room and stepped carefully over all the rubbish and clothes lying on the floor in the living room. There was no sign of life or sound anywhere. When I walked into the kitchen, I finally found a room with a light on. I adjusted my scarf around my face. I always concealed my face, just to be safe.

I faced my back to the wall and inched closer to the room. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear someone breathing heavily. The eery scene made even  _my_  palms sweat. I swallowed the spit that had accumulated in my mouth and took a deep breath before I kicked the door open and held my gun up in front of me with both hands. My finger was on the trigger, and I was about to load a bullet.

I was greeted by a boy, a teenager, a young man, or somewhere in between or a mix of the three, sitting in the bathtub, fully clothed. His white shirt was sticking to his chest, and I couldn't tell if his face was wet, or if he was crying. He looked up at me, and he didn't flinch - not even slightly. his eyes were glassy and strangely innocent; his skin was slightly tanned and he had silver hair which clung to his wet forehead which gathered together like blades of grass. I tightened my grip on my gun and stepped over closer to the bathtub. I peered inside, and the water was slightly red. His upper arm had been slit and it was lying limply in the water. His right hand was propped up on the side of the tub, and a razor was poised in-between his thumb and forefinger.

I furrowed my eyes in disbelief at this obscure event. I had never seen anything like it before in my two years of being a hitman. I felt a wave of panic through me. 

"Mister? What are you waiting for?" He said rather weakly, with a seemingly improper smirk on his lips.

"Shut the fuck up." I snapped at him and lengthened my arms, and loaded my gun.

"Looks like you've just made my job a whole lot easier." 


	2. TWO

I shook my head at him in disbelief. I was slightly taken aback by his quiet confidence. I was used to people trembling before me, and fearing me... but he was so strangely comfortable with a gun pointed right at his head, it was alarming and it sent shivers down my spine. 

I suddenly felt frustrated - he was manipulating the situation to favour him. That's now how things were meant to be... not at all. I shoved my gun back in my pocket and huffed. As I advanced towards him, he pushed himself away from me.

"Get up, you fuck. Get out of the tub. now. Gimme that!" I took the razor out of his hand and flung it across the bathroom, and it landed with a clang. He watched it fly through the air, and suddenly, he looked rather defeated - like how a child would look when you take their favourite toy away from them.

He tried to get up, but his shaky arms would not carry him. He slipped back into the tub with a splash. I grabbed under his arms roughly and pulled him out of the tub. As I had gotten closer to him, I smelt strong alcohol on his breath. He groaned in pain softly as I dropped him on the floor.

"You gonna kill me or not?" He said as he propped his back up against the tiled bathtub. "If you won't... please excuse me. I have some business to attend to." He slurred and his body flailed forwards as he began to crawl over to the place where I discarded his razor.

My body took over - I didn't know what I was thinking, nor could I explain it. I pushed him back against the tub with my foot.

"Just... stop, for fuck's sake. You're making this a fucking mess!"

"Fuck you." He spat.

I clenched my jaw and got the gun out of my pocket swiftly, and pressed it against his forehead. He closed his eyes and his lips parted slightly. He looked as if he was willing me, almost silently begging me to pull the trigger. He looked serene and content... and quite beautiful, even in the face of death. He  _wanted_  me to kill him. And because of that... I couldn't do it. I told myself that it was part of my personality not to please other people like that - not give them what they want so easily. It was far from the truth. 

"FUCK!" I stomped my foot and threw my arms in the air. I put my gun down on the bench and knelt down to his level. I felt his pockets for his wallet so that I could take his ID and leave him alone.

"Where's your wallet?" I asked.

"I don't have any money."

"I didn't ask for your money I asked for your wallet. Now tell me where the  _fuck_  it is!"

I felt so confused. I felt anger and confusion all mixing inside of me.

"It's on the coffee table."

I got up and turned the lights on in the kitchen, which was enough to illuminate half of the living room. I found his wallet and took out his identification card. I slipped it into my pocket and paced back into the bathroom.

"Listen to me. Listen to me right fucking now. I'm gonna take this card, alright? And you're going to stay away from Hyun-Su and the rest of the gang. Or they will be the ones to put a cap in your ass, not me. And they will take sufficient pleasure in doing it. Got it?"

His head had slumped down to his chest. I grabbed his face in my hands and lifted it up to mine. His eyelids were struggling to stay open. I shook his head, and his eyes flickered.

"Wake up. Can you hear me?"

He did not respond. I studied his face for a moment. He had an exotic, elven, almost pixie-like look about him. He had a straight nose and soft features. He looked like he didn't belong there. He looked like he should have been in some kind of fantasy novel. Not sitting on a cold bathroom floor, probably losing consciousness due to the pain that he inflicted upon himself or the alcohol in his system.

"For fuck's sake," I whispered. I picked up his limp body and threw him over my shoulders.

"What?" He muttered, evidently confused and dazed. I took him into the living room and laid him down on the couch. I turned on all the lights I could find, but I paced over to the windows and closed the curtains. I went back over to him and undid his shirt, and ripped off a piece of fabric and tied it firmly and securely around his arm. I went back into the kitchen and opened every cupboard until I could find a cup, and I held it under the tap and filled it with water. I found some salt on the small table set against the wall and poured some of it into the cup. I brought it back over to him and knelt down beside him and held it up to his lips.

"Drink it. It'll induce vomiting."

He parted his mouth slightly and I poured it down his throat. He took it with one gulp, and then his eyes widened. I stood up and stepped back quickly, and he proceeded to vomit all over the floor. Out of his mouth came alcohol and pill fragments.

"What the fuck did you take?" I said to him, disgusted.

"Candies."

"Now I can see why they wanted you dead. You don't know how to hold your tongue, don't you?"

Before he could reply, he vomited again. He looked up at me through heavy eyes and wiped his mouth.

"Why are you helping me?" He asked.

"You're just a kid." Was all I could manage. also... he didn't seem really  _that_  evil... Yeah, he had an attitude... but that was it from all I could see. I hadn't been told thoroughly about why Hyun-Su's gang wanted him dead. All I did know was that a gang member hired him for his... ' _services'_  and he spread the word about it to everyone and because the member apparently abused him and whatnot, and threatened to go to the police. I suppose the potential threat to their so-very-macho reputation was under threat. And they wanted to eliminate that threat.

"Why not just put a cap in my ass? Huh?" He slurred.

"Don't make me regret my decision."

"By the way, I'm 22, mister. Not a kid."

He seemed to be slowly sobering up and regaining his bearings.

He was one year younger than me, but he still looked like a teenager, and he was shorter than the average guy and had a petite frame. He must have thought I was much older because of the occasional formal language that he used.

He tried to get up, and he, by some work of a miracle, stumbled to his feet and held his hand to his head. He walked over to his bedroom door and stabilised himself against the wall. He was a fucking  _mess_. His bare feet left footprints when he walked, and his clothes were still dripping wet. He must have been freezing. I followed him into his bedroom.

"If I let you go, you have to promise me something."

"I don't make promises, mister."

"You won't do that again."   
  
"Well, it's either death or the streets. Where I'll probably die anyway."

He slumped down on his futon and pulled the remains of his shirt over his head, leaving the makeshift bandage around his arm.

"Why the streets?"

"I haven't paid my rent for three months and I still don't have the money. I get evicted tomorrow. Well, today." He said with a sigh.

"So you were just going to kill yourself?"

He glared at me, slightly in shock.

"You don't even know me, mister."

"I'm going to take your ID and I'm going to tell Hyun-Su you're dead, and you're going shut up and hopefully leave Seoul. Got it?" I averted the subject back to the real topic of discussion.

"No can do. Got no money, got nowhere to go." He said as he reached to the side of his futon where he picked up a bottle of wine, swivelled it, and held it up to his lips - despite the fact that he just vomited up copious amounts of alcohol. I launched forward and snatched the bottle from his lips.

"Looks like you're just gonna have to kill me then," he added. 

The way he spoke about death so openly was so unnerving, even though I was surrounded by death day in and day out. In the underworld, the gangs knew me as the reaper - as cheesy and cliche that sounded - because of how many people I cleaned off the streets. They knew they could trust me if they needed someone to disappear off the face of the earth. Death facing death...  _what a fucking conundrum._

"I... I can't do it," I admitted and avoided eye contact with him.

"Then are you gonna help me or leave me here to rot?" He hesitated slightly, and the volume of his voice trailed off towards the end. I forced myself to look at him, and his eyes were glistening with innocence.

He wanted to live... but he had nothing to live for. he saw death as the solution to his unsolvable problems. I felt something that I hadn't felt in years;  _sympathy_. A fucking prostitute, that I had never seen or met before in my entire life, who's apartment and life was in ruins, made me feel sympathetic. Albeit, the feeling drifted away as quickly as it arrived.

"If I give you money you'll blow it on alcohol. And I'm not paying your rent for this dump." I shook my head at him and signalled around me at the filthy space.

"I need to get my feet on the ground."   
  
"What are you suggesting?"

"Just... I... uh... can I stay with you tonight?"

"I'm straight."

"I wasn't suggesting that, mister. But of course, if you want-"

"So you're asking to stay at my place. You're quick to trust people, aren't you? I could kill you in your sleep."

"Even if you do what choice do I have?"

"Don't you have any family? A friend?" 

"I wish I did." 

I thought for a moment. I hadn't had anyone at my apartment in years... not a soul - not even people that I knew. I hated facing the fact that I couldn't just leave him there. I hated how I could just hold my gun up to his head and pull the trigger and hear his brains splatter against the wall. Perhaps it was because I saw part of my old self in him - I don't know. But I couldn't leave him. He was too young, too innocent, too naive.

"For fuck's  _sake_... Okay. For  _one_  night. I suppose I dragged myself into this... and I expect to be compensated eventually. If you don't I won't hesitate to kill you."

"Deal, mister."

He held out his limp hand, waiting for me to shake it. I ignored it and turned around and faced his wardrobe, and grabbed random items of his clothing and shoved it under my arm. I walked over to him and knelt down, and threw his arm over my shoulder and helped him to his feet. This time, I shoved the clothes into his arms and quickly paced back into the bathroom to get my gun. I looked at it one final time.

Was I making the right decision?


	3. THREE

I carried him down the stairs. He was suprisingly light for the moderate amount of muscle that he appeared to have. I pushed open the doors with my free shoulder and the cold wind hit me like a truck.

“Hey… I never got your name.” He said while wriggling while he was over my shoulder.

“Not important.”

“Okay… then aren’t you going to ask me mine?”

“I saw it on your ID card.”

“Aren’t people going to see us?”

“Do you see anyone around?”

“I'm cold.”

“Shut up for a second while I call a cab.”

“I got blood on your jacket.”

It was like I was talking to a child when he was in fact 22. I grabbed his back with both of my hands and pulled him down, and virtually dropped him onto the pavement. He stumbled on his feet and straightened himself up, and covered his bare chest with the clothes that he was holding. He was shivering violently, and he was shifting his weight on each of his bare feet because the ground was covered lightly in snow.

I turned my back on him and dialled the cab company. I told them the address and they said they were sending someone over now. I put my phone in my pocket and exchanged it with his ID card.

“Sitta… uh…” I began and held it close to my eyes just in case I was seeing incorrectly. I couldn’t pronounce his name for the life of me.

“Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.” He corrected.

“Right.”

“Call me Ten.”

“Is that what your clients call you?”

“Yeah. I go by it because it's easier.” He said through his chattering teeth and fast breaths.

“Are you a fucking idiot? Put a shirt on.”

“All you grabbed was pants.  _Idiot_.”

I scoffed and took my jacket off and handed it to him, and he slung it around his shoulders. Our height difference was so great that my long jacket on his body almost reached the ground.

“Thanks, mister.”

“Stop calling me mister,” I said while I faced the road, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Well, you won’t tell me your name so I have to call you something, don't I?”

“Stop talking. You're getting on my nerves.”

“Okay, geez…  _sorry_.” He said, and he actually sounded quite saddened by my remark.

We stood on the curb for a few more minutes in silence. It was so cold, mist formed when we exhaled. To my pleasure, the cab pulled up right in front of us. Ten almost leapt forward, flung the door open, and sat in the back seat and slammed the door, as if he didn’t want to let any more of the cold air into the cab. I sat in the front and told the tired looking cab driver my address. He nodded and we were on our way.

In the rear vision mirror to my right, I could see ten sitting in the back seat behind me. He looked like a frightened little cat, shivering in the cold, lost and desperate. Even I felt slightly sorry for him. He seemed like a pretty nice guy, a bit annoying, but…  _tolerable_. He definitely had a big mouth and didn’t exactly think before he spoke, from what I could gather from the minutes that we had spent with each other. He must have been chronically depressed, but it was so easily concealed by his chirpy voice, bright face, and immature character.

When we arrived at my apartment building, I paid the cab driver and got out of the car. I looked behind me, and Ten had fallen asleep. I got out of the car and opened the back door, and shook his shoulder. He darted awake and gained his bearings, and groaned as he got out of the car.

“This sure is a nice building, mister.”

I shut the door behind him and a cab drove off.

I turned around and walked off, and Ten scurried behind me, trying to keep up with me. I was rather frustrated with the whole situation. I felt like I had been burdened with something that I didn't know how to take care of. We went into the lobby, and the lobby boy in his maroon suit and small had perched on his head looked at me strangely.

Ten slowed and I looked back at him.

“Hello.” He said and waved to the lobby boy, in what appeared to be an attempt not to look suspicious, but failing miserably. I rolled my eyes and grabbed his unharmed wrist and dragged him to the elevator.

“Rule number one. Don't fucking talk to anyone you don't know. Got it?”

“I'm talking to you. So I've already broken that rule.”

I scoffed at his attitude and pressed the elevator button repeatedly. I couldn’t come quick enough. I looked over at the lobby boy who was furrowing his eyebrows at us. At that moment, I wanted to put a bullet in both Ten and the lobby boy’s heads. I guess that was the only way I knew how to deal with anything.

The elevator arrived and I pushed ten inside. I pressed the “20” number, and the elevator doors closed.

“Rule number two. Don't look at anything. Number three, don't touch anything.”

“What happened to the whole _mi casa es su casa_  thing that people usually say when they have guests?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not Italian.”

"It's Spanish." Ten snickered.

I clenched my jaw and stared at him. He really thought that he was being clever and funny, making me look like an idiot.

The doors opened and ten stumbled out of the elevator and looked around him as if he was in some grand palace. He began to wander off in the opposite direction of the hallway, and I grabbed his wrist, again, and pulled him in the right direction. I punched in the code on the padlock and inside we went. I grabbed my jacket off his shoulders and hung it up, my gun still in my pocket. My apartment was small and studio like, but it was all I needed. I was barely home, anyways. I didn't have a bedroom, it was all an open and connected, apart from the bathroom and laundry, of course.

“I like what you’ve done with the place.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic so I ignored him.

“There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry. Bandages are in the bottom drawer under the microwave. For your… arm.”

I walked over to my bed and collapsed on it. I felt exhausted. I propped my back up on my pillow and Ten looked back at me from his place on the couch.

“Where am I going to sleep?”

“Where else do you think? The couch.”

“But you have a double bed.”

I was taken aback by his attitude and fussy behaviour. Did he really think that he was going to be sleeping in the same bed with  _me_? Perhaps he was used to it due to his occupation... but I wasn't going to entertain him. 

“Excuse me?” I glared at him. He widened his eyes and turned back around, and got up off the couch. He walked over to the kitchen area and got the bandages out of the draw that I told him about. He took the makeshift bandage off his arm, and he winced in pain. He wrapped a fresh bandage around his arm and secured it with a small clasp.

He threw all the rubbish in the bin, to my surprise. He seemed like the messy type, judging from the condition of his apartment. He went over to the fridge and opened it, and his face lit up when he saw cans of beers. He grabbed one, snapped it open, and took a long sip. Perhaps I was too busy looking at his bruised body, scattered with scratches to register what he was doing. At the time, I just thought I was zoning out.

“HEY!” I leaped up from my bed and paced over to him and snatched the can of beer out of his hand, mirroring what I had done previously with a bottle of wine. 

“These are mine. Don't touch them. Plus, you're already drunk! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I'm not  _that_  drunk.”

“Shut up. Go and have a bath or something. You smell.”

“That’s what I was doing until you interrupted me.”

He snatched the can back out of my hand and walked into the laundry, turned around, and then went to the bathroom, and closed the door and clicked the lock.

I suddenly felt worried.

“Don't lock the door.”

“Why?”

“I don't trust you.”

“Hah.”

“Don't think you're special. I don't want you to get blood on my fucking white tiles.”

“I'm not going to kill myself, mister.” I heard his voice echo in the bathroom. 

“Open the door,” I demanded and knocked on it a few times.

“What, you wanna watch?”

“No. Just… leave the door open a bit.”

“Wow. You actually sound like you care about me.”

I stepped back and cocked my head to the side.

“I don't deal with dead bodies. I just do the killing.”

“Whatever you say.” He turned around and left the door slightly ajar.

I felt a fleeting moment of care for him… like I wanted to protect him. But I didn't know how to express it, not at all. I suppressed the feeling just like it was any other.

I stripped out of my clothes, threw them in the basket, and pulled on my pyjama pants. I decided that I needed an alcoholic drink. I got a beer, and sat on my bed and cracked it open, and tried to relax. I could hear the shower running, and steam emanated from the small gap in the door. my eyes watched the steamy gap the entire time, I was unwilling to take my eyes off it.

The shower stopped and I snapped out of my trance, and I got my phone and tried to distract myself by playing some pathetic game. Ten shuffled out of the bathroom and turned off the lights. He had a shower wrapped around his lower body.

“Can I please borrow some pyjamas?”

“I grabbed you some pants. You can wear those.”

“But they’re stiff.”

I groaned and got up and walked over to my wardrobe and flung open the doors. I opened my pyjama draw with my foot and pulled out a pair of long pyjama pants.

“Come here,” I said, and he walked over to me, his eyes not leaving my face for a moment. I held up the pants to him, and they looked far too big - to the point where they would probably fall down on him. The last thing I wanted was a naked prostitute sleeping on my couch. 

“These won’t do.”

I grabbed him the matching pyjama shirt and handed it to him. It might have been a little big, but at least it would have covered him.

“I need underwear.”

“What?”

“Unless you want me to walk around here naked, that works too.”

“Shut up.” I snapped. It was like he could read my mind. 

I flung my body around, snatched a pair of boxers from my cupboard, and pushed them onto his chest. He grabbed them with a mischievous smirk.

“Thanks, mister.” He said with a smile, and he watched me walk away.

“Whatever.”

I climbed under my bed sheets and faced the wall. I heard him getting changed, and his towel dropping to the floor. He really had no shame. When he was finished, I heard his footsteps make their way over to my couch.

“Why did Hyun-Su want me dead?” He said abruptly.

“Because you can’t hold your fucking tongue.”

“He  _bashed_  me so I told-”

“Don’t complain to me. I’m going to sleep.” I said with a groan.

I turned around and flicked off the main light switch. I heard ten leap to his feet in fright. 

“Mister?”

“ _What now?!”_

 _“_ I'm scared of the dark.” He whimpered.

“How old are you, three?” I reached back and turned on my lamp. “ _Better_?” I said in a mocking tone.

He was standing up and facing me, with his hands clutching his shirt.

“Better.” He said with a weak smile.   


	4. FOUR

_**TEN'S POV** _

I forced my eyes open. I had a pounding headache. Visions of the previous night came into consciousness. I shifted uncomfortably in the couch. My neck hurt because I had slept in a strange position, and without a pillow. But, at least I had a roof over my head. I felt a throbbing pain in my wrist.

_Why the fuck did I do that? -_ I thought.

I was actually still alive. I never thought I would see the sun rise over the horizon again. But here I was, in an anonymous mans apartment, living, breathing, there to see another day. I didn't know how to feel. I didn't feel happy, or sad, or grateful, or regretful. I felt ambivalent - like it was just another day, just another struggle. 

Something about him told me not to do it, as soon as he burst into the bathroom. It wasn't just a coincidence. It couldn't have been. If he saw me about to take my own life, why didn't he kill me? Or why didn't he wait for me to do it? It would have been less incriminating on his behalf... What stopped him? Unanswered questions filled my mind. I knew they would remain unanswered for the time being.

I sat up with a groan on the couch and looked over at his bed. He was still fast asleep. All I could hear was the on the wall clock ticking away, and his steady breathing. His chest rose and fell under the covers. I got up, rubbed my eyes, and walked over to him. I stood over his body, expecting him to wake, but he was still fast asleep. I grabbed his shoulder and shook it, but he simply fidgeted slightly, and let out a sigh.

He had a nice face. A  _really_  nice face. I liked how his lips curved up at the side. He had small, almost dainty ears and a handsome looking nose. He had intense eyes, that somehow still felt domineering and cold, even when he was sleeping. It was almost as if his face was contorted in a permanent scowl. He had a delicate chin, a nice jawline, and a strong neck. His black hair flopped on his white pillow, revealing his forehead.

I wanted to touch him. I wanted to climb into bed with him. I turned around and realised that I was being stupid, and I always glorified people who I meant absolutely nothing to. It was a habit of mine, and it had gotten me into quite a lot of trouble in the past.

I wanted to know his name.

I wanted to know the name of the mystery man, who by endeavouring to end my life, saved it. In the hallway leading to the door, I saw the coat he was wearing last night hanging on a hook. I took one last look over at him in the main living space to assure that he was in fact asleep.

I walked over to the jacket like it was some kind of forbidden fruit. I reached into his pocket and felt a cold metallic object. My heart started to beat faster. I reached further into his pocket but I couldn't find anything else. I quickly flipped the jacket over and reached into the other pocket, and felt a soft leather object against my fingertips. I pulled it out and flipped it open. Sitting under a clear film was his driver's licence.

"Johnny Seo," I whispered.

It was a bit reckless of him to carry ID on him when he was doing what he was doing. I gathered that he was a hitman. I looked at his birthday and it appeared that he was only one year older than me. I widened my eyes at this fact. His face was very mature, and he looked at least 29 years old. He didn't act like someone who was 23, practically fresh out of his teenage years. I put his wallet back in his pocket and walked back into the living space.

His name suited him, but I expected it to be something more...  _mature_. Johnny sounded like a little boys name. I wasn't sure whether it suited him or not. This changed my perception of him, falsely so. I strolled over to the fridge and took out some leftovers. I flipped open the top of what appeared to be noodles. I smelled them. They smelt a bit stale but fresh enough. I was starving and hungover.

I put it in the microwave and then sat on the countertop.

Johnny shifted under his covers, and stretched his arms out and yawned.

"Good morning."

He darted up in fright, but when his eyes landed on me, his countenance softened and he rolled his eyes. His sheets fell at his waist, and my eyes traced his bare torso.

"I'm not used to having people here."

"I can tell."

He flung his legs over the side of his bed and rested his head in his hands.

The microwave beeped.

"What are you eating?"

"Noodles."

"They're at least a week old but if you want food poisoning, go nuts." he groaned with a croaky morning voice. 

He got up from the side of his bed and walked over to the bathroom without looking at me once. He had broad shoulders and sculpted arm muscles, and prominent abdominals. I felt like he was teasing me on purpose by not wearing a shirt.

The microwaved beeped and I took the noodles out of the microwave and dropped them on the floor. The slightly moist and soggy cardboard burnt my hand. All the boiling hot juices splashed over my legs and hands.

"Oh, fuck!"

I heard the toilet flush, and out came Johnny. I darted my head around.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"It was an accident." 

"Get out of the way." He said sternly. He paced over to me and I stepped back. "I tell you what I should do? I should make you eat it off the fucking floor." He pointed down at it and clenched his jaw. I knew to say sorry would probably only aggravate him.

I knelt down, and picked up a strand of noodles and put it in my mouth. I wouldn't dare make eye contact with him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"You said-"  
  
"I said I  _should_. I didn't say I was going to make you eat it off the floor."

"Oh..."

"You're used to obeying creepy old man's orders, aren't you?"

"I guess so." I shrugged. It was just part of my job. I did what they said. I got paid.

"Well, that's fucking depressing. Get up. It's too early for this shit."

Johnny came over to me and grabbed the back of my collar and pulled me up and pushed me to the side. He got some cloves, wipes and a bag out of his cupboards and proceeded to clean up the mess. I wanted to offer my help but I knew I would just cause more trouble. I was too clumsy for my own good. When he finished cleaning he put the bag and the plastic gloves in the trash and proceeded to take some ingredients out of the fridge. I didn't know what to do or say, so I went and sat down on the couch and watched him cook.

He cracked eggs into a pan and added some chopped vegetables and bacon. It smelt delicious. I admired how his back muscles flexed and twitched under his skin soft, pale skin when he moved. He had an almost vampish look about him.

He flipped the omelette and let it cook, and brewed some coffee. He poured it into a mug, and put the omelette on the plate and got some cutlery. He walked over to the table next to a window placed it down. He only cooked for him. Of course. But, to my surprise, he went and sat down on his bed and went on his phone. The steam rising from the food danced in the sunlight.

I looked at it, then back over to him.

"Do you like cold food or something?" He blurted.

"What?"

"You're not hungry?  _Fine_. I'll put it in the bin along with the noodles." He sounded defensive and went to sit up.

"What! No! I thought it was for you."

"I don't eat breakfast."

"You're acting like I was somehow meant to know that." I smiled at him and scurried over to the table.

I practically inhaled the omelette. It felt like it had been months since I had eaten something so fresh and hearty. A simple,  _"here ten, I cooked this for you"_  wouldn't have gone astray... but he seemed to be a bit of a social deviant and he had trouble displaying even passing displays of affection. Affection was the wrong word to use, perhaps...  _Basic manners,_ rather. He definitely wasn't used to talking to people.

"Thanks, mister." I turned around and smiled at him once again. 

"Whatever." He didn't even look up from his phone. "You can leave now." He added coldly.   
  
Suddenly, the warm environment felt cold and clinical. But I don't know what I expected from a borderline psychopath like him. 

"But I just got here," I mumbled. 

"I said you could stay for one night. Its been a night. Its now morning, from what I can deduce. Therefore, it's time for you to go." He clicked his phone off and put it on his bedside table, and crossed his arms.

"But... I don't... have  _anything_." I felt completely defeated. I wanted to stay. I didn't have anywhere to go. And I couldn't go anywhere because, well... I was meant to be fucking dead.

"But this, but that. Save your sob stories for someone else. You're not my responsibility."

"I sort of am, but anyways."

"Listen to me,  _Ten_. You're not my responsibility, you're a fucking adult and you can take care of your fucking self. So get your whore ass out of here before I fucking lose it. Go and leech of someone else. Or fuck someone for 1000 won and a cigarette. Whatever you do."

I looked at him in disbelief. How could he be so fucking rude? But I wasn't in any place to argue with him. 

"I promise I'll pay you back if you let me stay. I promise. I'll do anything. Ill work for you, I'll cook, I'll clean, I'll do anything. I won't talk. Please." I said frantically and held my hands together as if I was praying to a god. 

_**JOHNNY'S POV** _

I got up and paced over to him, and he pushed himself against the wall.   
  
"You've already proven to me that you're a slob, and you can't cook. So,  _no_. get your things and get out of here." I towered over him.

He finally gathered the courage to look up. I was greeted with wide, glassy eyes.

" _Johnny_. Please. Just a few more nights while I get some money and find somewhere else to stay. Ill die if I don't."

I cocked my head to the side and stepped away from him. Hearing him call me Johnny... by my real name... it had been years since someone had done that. The notion, the idea of 'Johnny', whoever the fuck that was, was illusory and elusive. I stopped being  _Johnny_  years ago.  _Johnny_  was weak.  _Johnny_  was a fucking  _wreck_.

"D-don't... Call me that." I tried to remain calm.

"Why not?" He inquired suspiciously.

"Just... shut up. Shut up! You ass! Snooping around in my shit!" I yelled in his face. I was about to lose my temper. I saw fear in ten's eyes as he flinched. I could almost see my own terrible, evil reflection staring back at me.

He began to cry.

" _Please_... I'm sorry... Johnny, I beg you."

I fucking lost it. I grabbed Ten by the collar and grabbed his clothes from the couch. He shrieked in fright, and held onto my wrist, trying to free himself. I flung open my front door and threw him out of my apartment. He landed in the hallway with a thud, right on his ass. I looked down at him and scowled.

"Wait!" He reached out for me.

I slammed the door in his face and locked it.

I hated him. I hated him because I could see part of myself in him. I hated him... because for the first time in years he made me  _feel_. What he made me feel, I could not express even if my life depended on it. 

_Johnny... Johnny..._

_Johnny._

_The sound of his annoying voice radiated in my mind. Who was I kidding? It wasn't annoying. Wait. It was. I hated it. He deserved what he got, the fucking whore, sleeping around with anyone and everyone. But he didn't do anything wrong. But he was a lazy leech, relying on others for everything. But it didn't seem like his fault. He was driven to suicide. But he was a like a fucking child, never knowing what to do. But he was a crazy mother fucker, slitting his wrists thinking it would solve everything. But he was just a boy. Just a harmless kid, with soft skin and nice hair and-_

"FUCK!" I yelled, letting out some of my anger _._

I was too accustomed to my detachment from the world.

I could not feel for others. And if I did; like I  _was_ , it was always conflicted, contorted, and shallow, almost unobservable, like a dying star that faintly flickered on clear nights. But it was still there... perhaps I just needed a telescope. 

I grabbed handfuls of my hair and almost tore it out. I slammed the wall with my palm. 


	5. FIVE

JOHNNY'S POV

I knew I was making the wrong decision by letting a crazy idiot like Ten stay with me. He abused my kindness. Perhaps he saw me as the soft, easily persuaded type. Well, he was wrong. I liked my solitude. And I wanted to remain in it for as long as I could, without that miscreant ruining it. I had worked so hard to earn my isolated, quiet, empty bliss. He wasn't going to take it away from me.

I paced through my house, stressed, cleaning up the mess that he had made in the kitchen and on the couch. I sprayed where he was with disinfectant and threw away the blanket that he slept with. I felt ridiculously on edge. I fumbled through all of the draws in my house and finally found my packet of cigarettes. I swore that I would quit... but then life happens and unexpected stresses occur. Like ten.

I pushed open the window and let in the cool breeze of the morning. I squinted slightly in the sun, and I sighed and steadied my breathing. I rested my arms on the windows sill and closed my eyes. I took in an exhale of my cigarette, and it instantly calmed me down.

Johnny...

I shook his voice out of my mind.

That day, I didn't have work until later that evening, to my displeasure. I wanted to work to take my mind off things, to kill someone, to get paid for it. What I did best, obviously. Therefore, I jumped back into bed and pulled the bedsheets over my head, blocking out the light, and I fell back into a deep sleep.

~

It was late afternoon when I woke up. I woke up to sheer silence.

Just how I liked it, and just how I thought it should be, always.

I decided to start my pre-work routine. I was somewhat superstitious. I always wore the same clothes, all black, and with the same jacket. I always sat down at my dining table, on the left side, not the right, pulled apart my gun, cleaned it, and put it back together again. I never ate before I had jobs. I liked to do that kind of work on an empty stomach. I needed to be light on my feet and quick on my toes. I had to blend into the shadows. I had to be more of a shadow than shadows themselves. I always put on my left sock and then my left shoe, and then did the same with the right.

But something felt off that day... like I had a cloud hanging over me. My mind was scattered and I felt distracted. Justifiably so. last night's events contained the most eventful thing that had happened to me in years. If I had to make a diary entry of my life for the past five years, it would be the same shit, every day. It wouldn't even be worth writing a new entry underneath the previous one. All I would have to do is write the date, and then 'ditto'.

I took one final look at myself in the mirror before I left my house. I straightened my jacket and grabbed my keys, locked the door behind me and left. I was going to head to the gang's headquarters to see the day's work. I felt in my pocket: I had ten's ID.

The sun was setting when I arrived. I took the elevator to the 17th floor and approached their apartment. As usual, a guard was always standing out the front. He opened the door as soon as he saw me walking down the hallway. I nodded upon walking in, and he closed the door behind me. The room was humid and was filled with cigarette smoke. He and his men were sitting down around a small table playing cards.

"Seo. We've only got one for you today. Here's yesterday's pay." Said Hyun-Su, as he slapped down a slab of money on the table before him. A cigarette was hanging out of his mouth, and he didn't even look up from his cards upon seeing me. He had yellowed teeth and a beer gut, and he was hairy in all the wrong places. He always seemed to have a layer of sweat over his face, even when it was in the middle of winter.

I took the cash and replaced it with Ten's ID. Hyun-Su glanced over at it.

"He didn't cause you too much trouble that one, did he?" He said with a sleazy snicker.

"No, sir. A clean kill. No struggle."

"Flash! I got you, little bitches, again!" He shrieked at his fellow gang members. He pulled all of the money and goods over to his side of the table; he had just won the game of poker.

"You look tense, Seo. Want a drink?"

"I better get to work. Can I have the address?"

"What's bothering you? You know it's rude to deny alcohol, especially from your superior. This shit was expensive, you know." He said while signalling to the numerous bottles of soju on the table.

"Really, sir, it's okay."

"Whatever, Seo. Just don't fuck this job up. I think he's expecting... visitors."

"Visitors?" I questioned.

"He screwed us over for a big deal. I tested the cocaine when I gave it to him, and it was 90 percent pure. When I got it back, it was 80. So somewhere between now and then he cut that shit, and took a little for himself, the prick. I think he knows its coming. And he's armed."

"That never stopped me before."

Hyun-Su laughed and cut up a line of cocaine on the table, rolled up a dollar bill, blocked his other nostril, and sucked it up from the table in a swift movement. He leant back in his chair and exhaled deeply.

"So are you in, or out?"

"I wasn't aware that there was an option, Sir."

"That's my boy! That's why I love you. Here's the address." He took a piece of paper out of his tacky Hawaiian shirt pocket and handed it to me.

"Stay safe, Seo."

Yeah right.

I bowed before I left the apartment and walked back into the hallway. The address was uptown, probably a large house. It had been a while since I had a challenge, and I certainly didn't feel up to it. My head was scattered. I hoped that I'd be the one killing him and that he wouldn't be the one killing me.

*****

TEN'S POV

I walked around the back streets of Seoul all day, offering my body for sex over and over again. I found two clients, and they paid me well. They asked me why I looked the way I did, and why I had bandages over my arms, and I said that I accidentally spilled boiling water over myself. I couldn't go back to my apartment, because they would be cleaning it out by now. I couldn't walk on the main streets and beg for money or food because I could have exposed myself - when I was supposed to be dead.

I didn't want to go back to Johnny's apartment, but what else could I do? At least I could sit in the hallway and potentially sleep there in case it rained. My exhausted and heavy legs carried me all the way back to Johnny's apartment building. I took the fire stairs to avoid the doorman and receptionist. each step I took felt like it would be my last - I was so hungry and so close to collapsing, my vision blurred. Not to mention I had never had such a bad hangover. I finally reached his floor and pushed the heavy door open with what little strength lay within me. I stumbled down the hallway and collapsed against his door, and sat down.

I took the money out of my pocket and counted it. 100 000 won. Not too bad. I had enough money to buy alcohol-

No.

That's not what healthy people do. I closed my eyes for a moment, but before I knew it, I fell fast asleep against the door frame.

~

I was awoken by heavy steps approaching me, which gave me a fright. My eyes darted open and I saw a black figure approaching me. The hallway lights flickered on, and I saw Johnny, resting his hand against the wall, clutching his shoulder.

"Ugh. For fuck's sake." He said upon seeing me.

I got to my feet and walked over to him. I grabbed his hand and tore it away from his shoulder. It appeared that he had been shot or slashed with something.

"What happened?"

"Why are you here? I told you to leave." He snapped as he fumbled in his pocket for his house keys.

"Are you hurt?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second!"

I backed away from him as he attempted to unlock his door with shaky hands. The keys dropped to the ground. Without thinking, I ran over to them, picked them up, and unlocked the door for him. He didn't even say thank you, he simply stumbled inside and slumped against the wall with his back facing me, and winced in pain. I stood outside the threshold of the door, waiting for him to say something... anything.

I wiped my sweaty hands on my shirt.

He turned around and looked at me, scanned me up and down, and then proceeded further into his apartment. He left the door open. I walked inside and closed it, and switched on all of the lights.

"Did you get into a fight?"

"Get the first aid kit."

I obeyed him and got the same kit that I used for my arm. He sat down on his bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off, dirtying the crisp white sheets with blood and grime. He proceeded to take off his jacket and then his shirt, revealing with seemed to be a very deep wound in his shoulder. His flesh was hanging open, and the sheer sight of it sent shivers through my body.

"Don't act so shocked. You did this shit to yourself." He said with a forced, sarcastic laugh. His face was pale, and he stumbled through the kit, obtained some gauze, and pressed it into his wound. He suppressed his scream, and he groaned.

"Let me do it." I snatched the gauze out of his hand, and he didn't resist me. I cleaned up as much of the blood around the wound as gently as I could.

"G-get the anaesthetic."

"Is it a cream?"

"Its a needle."

"I've never given a needle before."

"Just... fucking get it, I'll do it myself if I have to."

I emptied out the contents of the kit on the bed, and out fell a few syringes and a few vials of liquid. I picked up one and showed it to him. He nodded.

"Put the tip of the syringe into the bottle and let it flow in, and pull the injector back."

"Okay, got it."

"Now insert it below my skin and inject it."

"Whereabouts?"

"My fucking left thigh... Where do you think!?"

"I know, but where!"

"Just below the wound, and then put more on top."

"Do I just... stab it!?"

"No... slowly put it under my skin, you idiot!"

"Alright alright!"

I pinched some of his skin because that's what I felt was appropriate to do, and I slowly put the needle into him and injected half of the liquid.

"The top.. the top!"

"I only got two hands!"

I did it again, holding my breath the entire time. When I was finished, I put the syringe on the bedside table and exhaled.

"Disinfect it. Quick."

"I'm not a fucking doctor, mister. I think we should take you to the hospital."

"Yeah, really fucking good idea, let's get both of us reported! Get the disinfectant."

"Geez."

I dabbed some disinfectant on some gauze and pressed it into his wound. This time, he cried out in pain. I swear the whole apartment building could have heard him. He was breathing heavily, but thankfully as I progressed, his screaming stopped as the anesthetic started to take effect.

"I think I'm gonna puke," I mumbled.

"Shut up."

"You need stitches. Look, you're going to have to go to the hospital."

"This isn't the first time I've given myself stitches. The cut is just so fucking deep."

"Get the wire and the needle."

I obeyed his orders and put them in his free hand. I watched him as he attempted to hold his wound together, and sew himself back together like his skin was fabric.

"Pinch it together."

I scowled and looked away as I held his cut together with my thumb and forefinger. I moved up as he progressed along the wound. I heard him cut the wire, and then his free hand dropped beside him.

"I'll bandage you up."

I got some bandage, and put my hand on his back, and sat him up gently. I wrapped around his shoulder and under his armpit. I could feel his eyes on my face the entire time.

"A 'thank you' would be nice," I said upon finishing. I grabbed all of the first aid items and put them back in the kit, and sat back down on the side of the bed, and secured the bandage with a safety pin. I finally met his gaze, his intense black eyes bore into me like fucking lasers. His sight shifted from my lips to my eyes, then back to my lips again.

I grabbed his face, shuffled closer to him, and I kissed him. I felt him cringe slightly, but he returned my kiss. My lips moved with his, perfectly, like clockwork. He even slipped his tongue inside my mouth. His lips were so soft compared to his cold, stern countenance. It didn't even feel like I was kissing him.

I ran my hands over the back of his neck and pulled on his hair gently. I began to climb on top of him, to straddle him. All of a sudden, I felt his hands on my chest and he pushed me off him. I didn't think someone so hurt could still be that strong. I fell to the floor with a thud. He got up off the bed, and I scurried backwards. He looked angry. Not just angry; ropable. He paced over to me and I got to my feet. I walked back as far as I could, but my back hit the fringe, which clinked all of the beer bottles inside. My eyes widened, and all breath escaped my lungs. His hands wrapped around my neck, and he tightened his grip.

I grabbed his fingers and I tried to free myself of his grip, but this only made him tighten it. He towered over me. Right then and there, I thought he would kill me. He was about a head taller than me, and he was way bulkier and stronger than me. I couldn't say anything, because I couldn't fucking breathe.

"Don't ever fucking do that again, you fucking whore." He spat at me with clenched teeth.

He let go of me and I coughed and gasped for air.

"You were looking at my lips, bastard." I managed. I rubbed my throat.

"That doesn't mean shit!" He yelled as he palmed the fridge behind me

"I know when someone wants to kiss. Don't you think I've seen it before?"

"Then you were fucking wrong!"

"Then why did you kiss me back? Just to tick it off your bucket list? Or because you actually wanted to?"

"Don't you fucking dare."

"If you wanted to kiss me it's okay."

"I'm straight. I like girls. Not boys. Get the picture you homo prick?" He said as he cocked his head to the side.

"Well... It was nice, Johnny. But don't worry, I'll pretend it didn't happen. I'm going to sleep. Goodnight." I slid past him and made my way to the couch, and lay down.

"What did I say about calling me Johnny?"

"Is calling you by your name a crime?"

"New rule. Don't call me Johnny."

"But why? Then what do I call you?" I whined.

"Mind your own business."

I shrugged and decided not to press the issue. He turned off all the lights and shuffled slowly over to his bed. I took my shirt off, placed it on the floor beside me, and slept in the pants that I had been wearing all day. Maybe it was a crime to ask him for pyjamas as well.

That night, I was absolutely sleepless. I could not stop thinking about the way that he kissed me. It wasn't a rough, violent, alcohol-fuelled kiss. I didn't get paid to kiss him. I didn't get anything out of it... it was just a kiss. Nothing more, nothing less. It wasn't poetic and it wasn't that serene or beautiful... but I couldn't shake it from my conscience. I stared at the ceiling the whole night, the moon lit the room with a soft silver hue.

Just as I was about to doze off, I heard sniffling from behind me. Was Johnny crying?


	6. SIX

TEN'S POV

I sat up on the couch, and threw the blanket off me. A wave of cold air hit my chest from the window that was slightly ajar.

I looked over to Johnny. He was facing the wall, and his chest was moving up and down, and he was still sniffling. I got up and silently approached him, but the floorboards creaked. I cringed and stopped in my place. Johnny must have been awake because he turned around.

“What the hell are you doing now?”

“I was uh... getting a- uh…”

“I wasn’t crying. I have a cold.” He instantly clarified. His cheeks were wet with tears.

“You were crying.”

“No, I wasn't.”

“Were your eyes just sweating then?” I teased.

“No. Go to bed. I was sound asleep until you woke me.”

“No, you weren’t.” As soon as the words escaped my lips, he glared at me. I bent over and turned on the lamp. His face was illuminated, and his cheeks were indeed very wet, and his nose was red. In a panic, he wiped his face.

“Why were you crying?” I persisted.

He did not reply. Instead, he shook his head. I decided that it would be appropriate to sit down on the side of his bed. Helping him was the least I could do considering that he was the one who saved my life. He shuffled over, all the way to the other side, and pulled the sheets over his chest.

“Get off. Now. Go back to sleep. Now.” He demanded. He nudged my backside with his foot, trying to slide me off the side of the bed. I didn’t really know what to say, or how to help him.

“I just didn't think you were the type to cry. So, you do have emotions.”

“I'm not, so stop making a big deal about it. My shoulder hurts. I was crying because it hurts.”

“But the anesthetic-“

“It fucking hurts, alright!?”

I sighed, turned off the lamp, and hopped under his covers. He sat up, reached over me, and turned the lamp back on. He glared down at me.

“What?” I asked with a kind smile.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“I’m not going to touch you. I'm just cold. And when I'm sad, I like to know that there’s someone beside me. So you might like it too.”

“I don’t have the fucking energy for this. Shut the hell up and go to sleep. Don’t pass my side.” He rolled his eyes, and he turned off the lamp, threw the covers over him indignantly like a brat, and faced away from me.

“Don't lie on your injured shoulder,” I told him. He huffed and turned onto his back. “Goodnight,” I added.

“Whatever.” He mumbled.

After a period of about 5 minutes, after his breathing regulated, I moved his arm and rested my head on his chest. He didn't seem perturbed by this. He sure was a fucking deep sleeper. For some reason, I liked seeing him cry. I didn't like the fact that he was crying, but… it made him feel a little more human. I fell asleep against his warm, soft body

~

JOHNNY'S POV 

I woke up to the sound of rain. It was a cold morning, and the thought of having to get out of bed made me physically ill. I felt a warm body against me. I lavished the feeling. I ran my hand through the person’s hair. I liked the feeling and the weight of their arm resting on my chest, I liked the sound of their breathing alongside mine. The person… who… what!?

My eyes darted open, and I looked down. Ten’s leg was thrown over my thigh. His head was on my chest. He was practically clinging to me. Not to mention he was shirtless. I flung off the covers. His pants had somehow made their way to his ankles during the night. Rage accumulated inside of me.

“Get off me... Get off!” I yelled. I didn't even want to touch him, I was absolutely repulsed. I wasn't used to having anyone touch me, ever. Especially not in that way.

Ten lifted his head, yawned, and struggled to open his eyes. His gaze met mine, and he didn’t even react.

“Okay.” He said with a smirk. He untangled our legs and he rolled over and attempted to fall back to sleep. He kicked off his pants, letting them lie at the end of the bed. This was too much for me. I felt a strong desire to kick his fucking back, send him flying off the fucking bed, picking him up, throwing him out of the apartment, locking it, throwing away the key, and never returning. I was so angry and so frustrated, I couldn’t move. I felt violated.

“We didn’t… do anything… did we?” I managed.

“No. It was an accident. I did it in my sleep. Sorry, Johnny.” He said with a morning voice, without even facing me. I don't think he could quite grasp the severity of the situation. I climbed off the end of the bed, nearly slipped on some clothes that were lying on the floor, and gained my balance. Ten sat up, and tucked his hands behind his head. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. That was way too intimate.

“I said I was sorry. You can stop acting like you’ve seen a ghost now.”

I paced to my cupboard, in search for something, anything that he could sleep on, other than my bed. I tore the doors open, and my eyes landed on an old, rather dusty futon. I pulled it out, taking along other miscellaneous items with it. I heard Ten snicker. I walked back over to the bed and dumped it down beside it.

“My bed.” I pointed at it with my finger.

“Your bed.” I pointed at the futon on the floor. Ten attempted to contain his laughter like I was telling some kind of practical joke. He sighed and stood up.

“You can stop looking at my body now. I'm taking a shower. You’re welcome to join me.” His eyes shifted to my crotch, and then he looked away and made his way to the bathroom.

I tore my eyes away from his bare chest, and flung around, attempting to hide my flushed cheeks. Why was I acting like this? What the fuck had gotten into me? I looked down at my crotch, and it was standing up like it had a mind of his own. I tried to push it down and then scurried away. I tripped on the corner of the rug, and I landed flat on the floor. I cried out in pain. It felt like I had ripped open my stitches.

The bathroom door swung open.

“Jesus fuck, are you okay?”

“Fuck off.” I snapped.

Ten’s eyes widened, and he closed the door. 

I groaned and got up. I made my way to the kitchen and splashed my face with cold water in the sink. Was I really sick? Had something gotten into me? Why the fuck was I hard? I despised that kid. Why was I looking at his body like it was the first body I had ever seen? Why was I looking at his body like it was a female's body? 

I put my whole head under the cold water and closed my eyes, willing for the world to go away. 

"FUCK!" Ten shrieked. I got frightened and I hit the back of my head on the faucet. "Stop using the fuckin' water!" 

"THAT'S IT FROM YOU, YOU FUCKING BRAT!" I snapped. In sheer frustration, I stormed over to the bathroom and flung the door open. For my sake, he should have locked it, even though 2 days ago I told him to leave it open. I don't really know what I expected, but he was standing in the shower, naked, of course, like everyone else in the fucking world takes a shower. Just like when I met him, dripping with blood, he didn't even flinch. He had no shame. 

He didn't cover himself, he didn't even blink. 

I didn't know what to say.

"I was only joking when I said you were welcome to join me."


	7. SEVEN

JOHNNY'S POV

"I was only joking when I said you were welcome to join me."

"Don't yell like that in my house. I'll get complains from my neighbours." I blurted, attempting to maintain eye contact.

"Why is your hair wet? Is that sweat?"

"I just washed my face."

Silence erupted between us, the only sound that was filling the room was the gushing of the shower, and the sound of my heart beating in my ears.

"Excuse me," I muttered. I whipped around, desperate to leave the awkward situation, and my forehead hit the door frame. Ten burst into laughter. Without saying anything else, I slammed the bathroom door and rested my back on it, and exhaled deeply. I closed my eyes.

Keep yourself together, Seo.

I went back over to the kitchen and made myself a bowl of cereal and a coffee. I sat down at the table and looked out the window, attempting to distract myself and clear my head. The only person who had ever made me feel this way was my ex-girlfriend. girlfriend. I'm straight. I'm straight. I don't like men, I don't like men, I don't like men. More specifically, I don't like Ten. I don't like his silver hair or his bright eyes or his soft skin or-

"What's for breakfast?" Ten asked as he walked out of the bathroom.

"Cereal. This isn't the Hilton."

"Mister, what about an omelette?"

"What about shutting up for 5 minutes and having a bowl of cereal? And don't call me mister again."

"Okay, Johnny." I rolled my eyes at him. He went over to the kitchen and poured milk into a bowl, and then he poured in some cereal.

"Wrong. That was absolutely terrible. I hate that."

"Geez, what did I do now?"

"The cereal goes first you uncultured swine," I stated as he sat down at the table. He smirked at me flirtatiously.

"You're actually kind of cute, you know?"

I choked on the food in my mouth. This only made his smile widen.

"I see you aren't used to compliments."

"Not from homosexual men. It makes me uncomfortable." I shifted in my seat.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"No. You make me angry and you irritate me."

"Well, that's a shame because you make me smile."

I dropped my spoon down on the table.

"Look, no more of this romantic shit. Or you're out of here. I'll report you to the police."

"I wasn't being romantic. Are you bisexual, Johnny?"

"I'm not anything."

"Asexual?" 

"I'm straight. I told you this already."

Ten sighed and stood up and walked over to where I was sitting. Without hesitation, he sat down in my lap. Not just in my lap, his legs were around me. He was looking at me dead in the eye, and I couldn't not stare at him, even if I tried. He wrapped his arms around my neck and cocked his head to the side. He put his hand on the left side of my chest. I admired the feeling of his strong thighs on top of mine, his slightly sun-kissed skin, his upturned nose and his gaze that was both incredibly intense but endearing at the same time. His features were too symmetrical to be real. He didn't belong in the parts of Seoul that I found him in. He was too... innocent. Suddenly, it's like the entire world faded into darkness, and the only light remaining was shed upon his lips. They were perky and he had a deep cupid's bow. They looked like they belonged on a porcelain doll, they had little crevices in them, and they were naturally shiny.

"You're heart is beating super fast." He whispered. "Hopefully it'll be nice and steady by the time I get back."

"Where are you going?"

"Work." He said plainly as he got up. He put on his shirt, slipped on a pair of slides, and waved to me before he disappeared down the hallway. I heard the door open and close.

"No..." I whispered to myself. I shot up out of my seat, bolted over to the door faster than I could fire a bullet, tore the door open, and ran down the hallway to catch up to ten. I grabbed his arm like all those teenage boys grab their high school sweethearts in kdramas, in those really dramatic scenes where they're like... Hajima... Saranghae...

"It's too dangerous. You're meant to be dead."

"I'll buy a face mask, I promise." He attempted to loosen himself from my grip.

"I'll be in a fuck tonne of trouble if anyone finds you, don't you get it?" I stressed through clenched teeth, trying to keep my voice down so my neighbours wouldn't hear me.

"I have to pay you back. Somehow."

"Not like that. Not from fucking men who you don't know. No way."

"Why do you care?" He sassed as he brought his face closer to mine.

"Because my life depends on it and... You're my responsibility now."

I was too involved just to turn my back on him. I felt an innate drive, right then and there, to take care of him, to stop whatever hurt he was feeling, to save him from any suffering because I knew how much it hurt, and because I couldn't save myself.

"Okay." He said rather tentatively, in a monotone voice. He followed me back inside. I closed my front door and locked it.

"Just... clean the dishes or something, I don't know. Make yourself useful around here."

"Okay."

"I have to get ready for work."

"Killing people for a living seems a lot worse than having sex."

"You don't know me."

"You don't know me either. How does one become a hitman?"

"How does one become a prostitute?" I asked. He sat down on the couch, and I sat down in the armchair opposite him and folded my arms.

"It's quite a simple story. I was kicked out of home after my parents found out I was gay, and I got a shitty job with a shitty pay, and it wasn't enough to pay my rent. So, one guy asked if I would blow him for $20. I said I'd do it for $200, and he agreed. After I was done, that was my whole week's paycheck right there in my hand. And things sort of escalated from there."

"How did they find out you were gay?"

"I was kissing my ex-boyfriend in my room."

"And what happened to him?"

"His parents made him enlist in the army before he had to do his 2 years. A stupid decision, really. It's filled with men."

"Have you spoken to your parents since?"

"HAH! Are you kidding me? I could be dead and they wouldn't care. At least I wouldn't bring dishonour to the family."

"Is that why you wanted to kill yourself?"

"Your turn now, mister." He stopped me in my tracks. It was only fair.

"I hate thinking about this, but... I had a perfect childhood until my mum left my father for another man. We had to move out of our house and we had to abandon everything we knew. We moved to this really shitty part of town outside Seoul, and I went to high school there. I got involved with the wrong crowd, with gangs, I got into fights... I would come home and my mother wouldn't even look at me because she was so depressed... She said I looked too much like my father. She would sort of just stare off into space. She barely ate, she barely slept, she barely showered. I came home with a black eye one time and she didn't even look at me. I was so angry... I trashed my room to get attention from her but she didn't say anything at all, ever. It's like she was dead. Then one night I came home and I... saw her hanging from the fucking ceiling."

"She killed herself?" 

"Yeah. she left a note saying: Johnny, tell your father I loved him."

"Jesus Christ."

"After that I... the same reason as you. I needed to make a living. Death was all I knew, so... I joined the industry. It helps me deal with my anger... my anger at my father for leaving us, my anger at my mother and myself because I couldn't save her... I didn't even try."

"Is that why you saved me?" 

"I... I guess you could say that."


	8. EIGHT

JOHNNY'S POV

"We don't have a lot in common at all." I asserted.

"We both make a living out of our struggle. The very thing that broke us."

"For a start, I'm not broken. I don't care. I don't want to talk about this anymore. Don't bring it up again." I got up from the armchair and went to my wardrobe to get my work clothes. 

"It's okay to care, you know... you don't have to be so cold all the time."

"Think what you want." I retorted plainly.

"I'm trying to figure out whether you're a psychopath, a sociopath, or a mixture of the two, or whether you just love being rude."

"I don't care what you think about me. Keep it to yourself. Stay, leave, it doesn't matter. Hate me, love-" I wish I could retract what I just said.

"Love you? Loving you would be like loving a brick wall. Don't flatter yourself, mister," He jabbed with a snicker.

"That's no way to speak to someone who's older than you."

"I thought you wouldn't care about that."

I tried to keep calm. I went into the bathroom to get changed and I slicked my hair back. When I went back into the main living area, Ten had made himself perfectly at home. His legs were kicked up on the coffee table, and he was watching TV.

I tirelessly convinced myself that I didn't care about him because it was what I was used to doing. Even though I made him stay with me and not go out to fuck men for money. He was breaking me and I didn't know how to feel. Perhaps I didn't want to care about someone because I didn't want to care about them and then those them, to go through all that pain again. 

If I didn't care about him, I would have killed him.

I shook the pitiful thought out of my head. I made sure my gun was in my pocket where I left it. I didn't even complete my usual routine before leaving for work. I was so desperate to be alone so I could think. I didn't need him corrupting my thoughts and making me think all of these uncharacteristic things.

I caught a cab to Hyun-Su's apartment. When I arrived at his door, it was slightly ajar. I heard men yelling and cheering inside. As soon as I stepped in, a strong smell of liquor and body odour filled my nose and made me gag slightly.

"Seo! Good news. We just smuggled a million dollars worth of coke into Seoul from Mexico. We're gonna be rich!" Hyun-Su punched the air with his fist, and he spilled beer all over himself in his excited and drunken stupor.

"Uh, congratulations Sir," I said with a forced smile. He got up from his seat and slapped me on the back, which nearly knocked the wind out of me.

"You can't refuse a drink now, can you, Seo? We have to celebrate!"

"So... I'm not working?"

"No no no! Ah! I forgot to call you to tell you I don't have any work for you. But you're here now, so celebrate with us!"

"I would love to Sir, but I have to get going."

"What about one game of mahjong? You love mahjong!"

Before I could say no, he pushed me into the room and forced me down on his rotten, ripped up couch. 

"Get Seo a beer!" he ordered. Everyone cheered.

A can of beer was placed in front of me and cracked open. I bowed my head. The only way to get through this was to get ridiculously drunk. I had earned it. I had endured a rough past few days... maybe I did need to loosen up a little. I gulped half of the can down my throat.

After my first game of mahjong, I had already had 2 beers. I was starting to feel dizzy and relaxed. Time passed remarkably quickly. We moved on from mahjong to cards, then to poker, and then to backgammon. Then another beer. The gang complained about their wives, their lazy good-for-nothing children, and their problematic in-laws. I even laughed a little. Another beer followed. 

"Enough of me! Seo, you got a girl? What's her name?" Everyone looked on eagerly.

"Her name... is... Chi...tta.. Ten..."

"He's so drunk he can't even remember his girlfriend's name!"

"I care." I whispered.

"Huh?"

"I- uh, nothing... I... Home... It's late."

"Aw, come on Seo, one more game!"

"I have to go..." I slurred.

I stood up and nearly fell over. I had lost count of how many drinks I had, but it was well and truly dark outside. I left the room without even bowing or saying goodbye, but I think everyone was too drunk to notice. I tried to grip the wall for stability. I blinked and tried to clear my vision, but to no avail. I swayed outside of the building. It felt like the floor was moving. People dodged me on the footpath, and I caught a glimpse of their judgemental glares. I stepped out onto the road and hailed a cab. Horns blared, but I was too drunk to give a shit. I practically fell inside the cab, and I told the driver my address.

"Don't throw up back there." He said sternly.

As I was looking out the window, everything blended together. The colours morphed into each other like the natural gradient of a sunset. I couldn't stop thinking about him. I wanted to. I gripped my head in my hands as if squeezing my head would remove him from my consciousness.

The cab stopped, and I looked at the driver, confused.

"We're here." He said as he turned back. I reached into my pocket and threw him some cash, probably way too much, but it's not like I could see it. His eyes widened and he nodded and thanked me, and told me to have a good night.

I paced as fast as I could through the lobby and into the elevator. I had a feeling of ravenous desperation inside of me. Somehow, I made it to my front door, and I knocked on it twice. There was no way that I'd be able to get my keys. Ten opened it, and it was like he opened the gates to heaven and salvation.

"I have some money for you." He said as a greeting. 

I stepped inside and practically fell on him. I cupped his face with both of my hands, and even he was taken aback. I knew that I would regret it when I was sober but... I had to let it out. You can only suppress things for so long.

I leant down and kissed him. He didn't resist me at all. I sucked on his top lip and without waiting, he slipped his tongue inside my mouth. His lips were sweet and soft, and I wanted more and more and more. 

I separated from him slightly, but I kept our lips touching. "I care. I care. I care I care..." I breathed into him.

Ten looked up at me with glassy eyes. His mouth hung slightly ajar.

"I know you do. It's okay." He whispered. I felt his hot breath on my face. 

"I care... I really care." I was grabbing him frantically like he was about to slip through my fingers and disappear forever. Like it was the last time that I would ever see him, so I was trying to memorise every intricacy in his face to be embedded in my memories forever. 

"I care" was the only thing that I could fucking say.


	9. TEN

After I had cooled down, and obviously did not call the police, Ten and I sat at the table in silence for a few minutes. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair and twiddled his thumbs, evidently waiting for me to say something, to shatter the awful, tense silence that hung over us.

“What did I do?” I said barely above a whisper.

Ten cleared his throat in preparation to speak.

“You came home and you said you cared about me, and then you kissed me. I said you were drunk beforehand, but you didn’t listen to me.”

“But how did we get to my bed?”

“You sort of... pushed me on it. You know, like in a dramatic-”

“Shut up. Jesus Christ.”

I really couldn’t remember anything. I tried to remember, I really did.

“Why didn’t you tell me to stop?” I added.

“Because I liked it.”

“You already said that, but you knew that I wouldn’t like it. So why didn’t you push me away if you knew this would happen?”

“Because you did like it. You were hard. You sucked my neck. You kissed me. It seemed genuine and it was, Johnny. I didn’t think this would happen. I thought I had finally cracked you.”

“I didn’t like it. I hated it. I was drunk." 

“How can you say that if you don’t even remember?”

I held my head in my hands.

“Consider it a momentary lapse of reason.”

“When people drink alcohol they get the confidence to do what they have always wanted to do.”

I looked up at Ten’s bruised neck. Love bites littered his entire body. It was almost too painful to look at.

“You like me, Johnny. Come on. I know you do. Just… give in. Nobody is judging you.”

“You can’t stay here anymore. I’m sorry. But I'm not sorry. I just think that it’s the appropriate thing to say.”

“Why?” Ten shot up out of his seat in shock.

“Because I can’t deal with this, I can't deal with you.”

What I wanted to say was: I don’t want to lose control again.

“I’m not leaving.” He stated adamantly.

“Look, this isn’t me. Having someone around me isn’t me. Taking care of someone isn’t me. Sharing my bed with someone isn’t me. Touching isn’t me. Kissing isn’t me. I hate it.”

“Wow! Look at me! I’m Johnny, the cool and collected emotionless psychopath. I think not having feelings is cool!” He mocked me, and danced around the table in a theatrical display, flailing his hands all over the place, while his eyes filled with tears.

“But really, I have emotions, I just say that I don’t because I’m scared about what will happen if I start to feel them.” He continued as he made his way up to me. I stared down at him, and he stared up at me.

“Isn’t that right, Johnny!? You love to hide who you are because you don’t want to appear weak. But I can see right fucking through you.” He finished through clenched teeth and poked my chest with his finger as if he would shatter the wall that separated me and the rest of humanity.

We stood there, staring at each other without saying anything, but his eyes spoke volumes. His eyes told me that he cared about me and that my disposition made him sad. He had every reason to hate me but I was all he had left, and he was willing to hold onto it with everything that he had.

“You just want me to give into you so I don’t fuck you off. So you have a place to stay. But that’s not all. You want me to grab you, hold you, wipe your tears, say that what you have done with your life is okay and that you can come back from it. That at the gates of heaven, God will ignore the hundreds of men you’ve fucked and that you’re welcome there. You want me to say that your parents still love you. You want me to say that… You want me to say that I love you. You’re like a little puppy, running around, sucking the life out of everyone. LOVE ME! LOVE ME! Like a fucking baby. You leech. Stop trying to change. Stop it. Stop trying to change me.”

“Alright then, you fuck.” Ten stepped away from me, went to my coat, grabbed my gun, and shoved it in my hands, and pressed the barrel against his forehead.

“Do it. Do it. Right now. I'm sick of this life. Do what you were meant to do. Do your fucking job. Then none of this would have happened. Then you could live in peace, right? You want that. I wanted to die but you’re the only reason I'm here. We altered our fates, but we weren’t meant to. Finish what you started.”

I started to breathe heavily and I didn't realise how much I was sweating until I felt it drip into my eyebrows. 

“FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!” He screamed and frightened me. I jumped, moved the gun away from him, and pulled the trigger all within a nanosecond. The gun fell to the floor and we stared at it in disbelief. Ten jumped, and the colour drained from his face. I looked over at the bullet hole that I had made in my cupboard.

Ten advanced towards me, grabbed my face and kissed my lips passionately. I pushed him away softly as I didn't really want to be separated from him - it was just a subconscious reaction.

“Just see if you like it.” He muttered. I made eye contact with him, closed my eyes, and kissed him again, this time softly. I was sober. We separated again, and Ten’s cheeks were flushed. I felt his hair. I felt his thick strands in between my fingers, I felt the warmth emanating from his body. I leant in again and ran my fingers down the centre of his back. He sucked on my bottom lip ever so gently. I felt his fingers inside the waistband of my pants, and he used it to pull me closer.

“And this is exactly why you have to leave,” I said while over his shoulder. 

“Fuck you, Johnny. FUCK YOU!” He yelled as he slammed his fists against my chest. He went over to the coffee table and lifted up a coaster, under which were dollar bills. He scrunched them up in his hand and threw them at me. He was crying again.

“Keep the fucking change.” He said with a scowl. He grabbed a plastic bag from the kitchen, threw all of his clothes inside, and a pair of my pyjamas. He threw on a shirt and looked at me one last time as if what I said was a practical joke, and he was waiting for me to say "April Fools!" 

He shook his head at me, wiped his eyes and smiled in disbelief.

“You’re inhuman.” He muttered. He turned his back, paced down the hallway with heavy heels and slammed the door.

Ten was right. For the latter half of my life, I had suffered from detachment. Emotional, physical, psychological. I was not tethered to the world. I could not feel. I could not suffer. I could not feel joy, pain, excitement or sadness. I felt like if you cut open my body, nothing would be there. It would be empty, hollow, filled with some kind of sand or stuffing to keep me upright. Like an untethered astronaut floating through space, aimless, directionless.

But I liked him, I liked him a lot, and that would be another thing that would just ruin me. If I felt my emotions, I would be out of work. I would start seeing human beings for who they really were, not just sacks of meat with malicious intentions and ulterior motives. I would not see them as actors in a movie, I would see them like intelligent animals, flesh, blood, life. Families. With hobbies and talents, with likes and dislikes. I wouldn’t be able to kill them.

And that’s what I saw in Ten. 

I went over to the window, and saw him pacing out into the streets. He didn't look back once.


End file.
